


Atlas

by Dalee



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Neglect, Gen, selectively canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalee/pseuds/Dalee
Summary: Zangetsu had resolved to never contact his wielder.Then the Grand Fisher happened.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo & Zangetsu
Comments: 15
Kudos: 168





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> An old-ish idea that I’d originally intended to see through the beginning of _Bleach_ and possibly through the invasion of Seireitei and after, but after rereading it recently, I feel like it can stand on its own.
> 
> That said, I can’t get the “Selectively Canon Compliant” tag to be properly capitalized, and it’s hurting my OCD-tendency little heart.
> 
> **Do not use, edit, or repost this work, even with credit.** This fic should be found on Archive of Our Own (AO3) and _only_ on AO3.

Please, let him be soft.  
  
I know you made him  
with gunmetal bones  
and wolf’s teeth.  
I know you made him to be  
a warrior  
a soldier  
a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp  
and even wolf’s teeth can dull  
and I do not want to see him break  
the way old and worn and overused things do.  


I do not want to see him go up in flames  
the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me  
that the world needs him.  
The world needs his heart  
and his faith  
and his courage  
and his strength  
and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his—  
The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,  
and damn you too.  
Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,  
damn anyone that ever took anything from him,  
damn anyone that ever prayed to his name.  
You know that he will give them everything  
until there is nothing left of him  
but the imprint of dust  
where his feet once trod.  
You know that he will bear the world like Atlas  
until his shoulders collapse  
and his knees buckle  
and he is crushed by all he used to carry.

Dear God,  
you have already made an Atlas.  
You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules.  
You have already made so many heroes,  
and you can make another again.  
You can have your pick of heroes.

So please, I beg you—  
he is all that I have,  
and you have so many heroes  
and the world has so many more.  
Let him be soft,  
and let him be mine. 

_—Please, let him be happy_ ([j.p.](https://pencap.tumblr.com/post/152685439505/please-let-him-be-soft-i-know-you-made-him))

* * *

The second time Zangetsu forced his way out of his wielder’s soulscape was to a young boy vastly different from the one he’d known all his life.

“It is late, Ichigo,” he said. A better adult, one more experienced with children and especially one of his height, might have crouched down to seem less looming. He, however, didn’t. It would do nothing, he knew.

“Your father must be worried.” No response. “Your sisters as well.” A twitch.

His wielder didn’t otherwise move from where he sat by the riverside, his legs drawn to his chest. Zangetsu didn’t press the issue. It would be more detrimental than not to force him to leave, no matter the rapidly decreasing nighttime temperature. Zangetsu would remain in this plane of existence—his wielder certainly had the reiryoku to spare—and protect him as needed.

Distantly, he wondered where his wielder’s father was, why he wasn’t around and why he hadn’t forced his wielder home. He’d expected that of the man—to ignore his wielder’s wishes to impose a solution he thought best—but he supposed, yet again, he’d overestimated him.

“Could you have saved her?” his wielder finally spoke. _Accused._

“No,” he answered honestly. “I am not meant to be here.” He frowned, remembering. “It took too much time for me to force my way out.”

That made his wielder look up at him. “Force your way out?”

A hint of concern. His wielder had too soft a heart. Too righteous. If he had to, he’d say it stemmed from being repeatedly told that he was to be a protector. Zangetsu personally didn’t know if he approved of the label. Older brother or not, his wielder was a _child._ A child shouldn’t have to grow up with the burden of protection.

“I was not trapped where I was,” he assured. “It was merely difficult to get out, much like a room with a door that is very heavy and requires much effort to open.”

He could explain that as a zanpakutō spirit, he was meant to spend his time in his wielder’s soulscape and that a wielder normally had to be specifically trained and have a sufficient amount of reiryoku to manifest their zanpakutō spirit. That he would normally need intent and cooperation from his wielder to enter this realm of existence. But that was part of a subject he had no wish to breach at this point in time. His wielder was yet a child. He didn’t need to know the intricacies of zanpakutō spirits just yet.

More importantly, he didn’t need the thought that had he tried _hard_ enough, was better or trained or wanted it badly enough, he might’ve been able to manifest Zangetsu and save his mother. It was untrue, but Zangetsu would not risk it.

His wielder nodded and mumbled, “That’s good.” A pause, then, “Thank you for saving me.”

_I will always save you if it is within my power,_ he could say. Or, _There is little I would not do for you._ Or even, _I will kill hundreds, **thousands,** of hollows to see you safe._ Instead, he settled for, “I apologize for being unable to save your mother.”

His wielder tightened his hold on his legs.

“I shouldn’t have tried to save that girl. She wasn’t even _real._ ”

“She wasn’t,” Zangetsu agreed, because that was the truth, and he would not lie to his wielder if he could help it. Too many people in his life already lied to him. _Continued_ to lie to him despite all the evidence that showed what a mistake it was.

“But you did not know that. You _couldn’t_ have known that. You tried to save someone whom you believed was in danger. While I cannot commend you for putting yourself in harm’s way to save her, I cannot condemn you for it either.”

His wielder’s face wrinkled in confusion, and he looked up once more.

“You use too many big words, Oji-san.”

Zangetsu allowed himself a brief smile.

“You shouldn’t have tried to save her the way you did not because she wasn’t real, but because it could’ve been very dangerous for you,” he rephrased. “However, it was very brave and kind of you to try.”

He then hesitated—his wielder was much too young for this, and that aside, he was _grieving,_ this wasn’t the time—but unbidden, he thought of his wielder’s father.

While he might not know the details of the situation—and there clearly _was_ a situation—he knew a shinigami when he saw one. He was a _zanpakut_ _ō spirit._ Of course, he would recognize one. Why his wielder’s father had not seen fit to teach his son how to differentiate between the living and the dead, how to detect hollows, or _how to suppress his reiatsu so that he was not hollow bait,_ Zangetsu didn’t know. Didn’t want to think on it overly much, as it never failed to infuriate him, that naïve neglect.

It was a miracle that his wielder had never encountered a hollow until now.

“I can teach you,” he said. “It will be difficult”—but not impossible as it otherwise would’ve been, especially with what he suspected of his wielder due to his parentage—“but I can teach you how to know if someone is alive or dead, how to detect other monsters like the one that killed your mother, and”—much as he was loathed to use this particularly trump card—“how to protect yourself and your sisters from them.”

At that, his wielder’s hold on his legs tightened.

“Will they come after us?” his wielder asked, terrified.

Yes. There was a chance that hollows would overlook his wielder’s sisters, as their reiryoku was only at the basic level that most other humans were at—he suspected their ability to see dead souls resulted instead from who their father was more than anything else—but only a small chance. Most would take their ability to see dead souls as a sign of their reiryoku, would assume that they simply had not unlocked their power.

His wielder, on the other hand, would most definitely be targeted.

“They will,” he told his wielder. “I can try to protect you, but I cannot guarantee I will always be in time, and I cannot currently protect all three of you separately. If you and your sisters are together, I can protect you all if I can force my way out in time, but I do not know how far I can be from you.”

Perhaps if his wielder was more trained, he might be able to leave his side, but as of this moment, it was difficult enough to simply manifest. If they were lucky, his wielder’s sisters would remain safe while he trained his wielder in manifesting him, but that was not a gamble he would make, and neither would his wielder.

His wielder looked down at his knees, his expression miserable.

“I just want to be _normal._ ”

“This _is_ your normal, Ichigo. It is different from other people, true, but that doesn’t make you strange. A _freak._ ”

His wielder flinched.

“You and your sisters are just as you’re meant to be.”

His wielder sniffled.

“I need to protect them. I’m their big brother.”

Zangetsu didn’t say a word.

“Please teach me, Oji-san.”

And his heart broke.

**Author's Note:**

> Hollow Ichigo does not exist at this point. I have my own personal headcanon regarding him, and I really, _really_ do not like the whole half-Quincy thing, so Old Man Zangetsu is the real and only Zangetsu.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome. Constructive criticism, not so much.


End file.
